


Being human

by thelittlewritergirl (librocubucularist)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:32:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/librocubucularist/pseuds/thelittlewritergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the season 9 promo with Cas in the laundr-o-mat, this is a quick look into how Cas's first few days of being human might look like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being human

**Author's Note:**

> This work would never have been completed or posted were it not for promising it as a birthday gift to my wifey. Happy Birthday, Ari!

Cas shuffled into the almost empty laundr-o-mat, wincing as his road-burned hand rasped against the metal door handle. He was thankful he’d seen Sam and Dean use these facilities before, he needed to get the blood and clumps of dirt off of his clothes. He couldn’t very well walk around looking like he’d just murdered someone.

He sighed heavily as the couple near the back of the brightly lit room gasped and started whispering frantically. He was going to have to get this done quickly and move on before he attracted unwanted attention. Tucking his head down, the fallen angel slid over to a bank of machines as far from the jittery couple as he was able and began rummaging through his pockets.

He had just barely enough to get his clothes through for a short wash cycle. It was going to have to suffice. Stacking the coins on top of the machine next to him the brunette shucked the tan coat from his shoulders and folded it reverently before moving on to his suit jacket and tie.

He could feel the stares of the other two humans (human…that was painful to think about) burning him as he slowly stripped down to his underwear. The woman gasped when he removed his pants.

“Hey, buddy!” the man called out.

Cas jerked his head up and looked over towards the man, eyes wide.

“Yeah, you. Crazy guy. Don’t go exposing your bits, dude. We don’t need to see that.”

Cas blinked rapidly in response, working his tongue around in his mouth before opening his cracked lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the fallen angel rasped. “I’m just trying to wash my clothes.”

The man scowled back at the brunette. “Yeah? Well keep your dick covered or I’m calling the police.”

The woman at his side burst out in giggles and hid her reddening face in her hands as Cas hunched over and began fitting his bloody clothes into the small machine. It was a tight fit with the oversized coat, but he managed to get it all in there with the handful of harsh, dry detergent from the dispenser near the door. Closing the lid securely—he knew enough not to let the lid stay open or water and suds could flow out onto the floor, Dean had teased Sam mercilessly about that—he put in the last of his change and started the wash cycle.

Sighing heavily Cas glanced around the room, wondering what to do while he waited. His eyes skittered over the couple that seemed to be talking about him still and locked on a bank of vending machines to his right. The muscles in his abdomen clenched painfully seeing the sleekly wrapped chocolate and puffy packets of salty chips. Subconsciously his tongue darted across his dry lips and his stomach grumbled.

Frowning slightly he placed the hand not covered in road rash over his stomach, trying to ease the cramping but it only seemed to make the gurgling noises louder. Blushing pink, he tucked his head down and glanced sideways at the couple in the corner.

Looking back to the reflective glass fronts securing the much-needed (and delicious!) nourishment away from his empty hands the now human regretted buying the soap. Maybe water would have been enough to get the blood and dirt from out of the clothes. Too late now.

Sighing in regret, the brunette walked over to a deep sink, meant for soaking extremely muddy clothes, and turned the tap on. Sadly only freezing cold water came out of the pipes but it’s not like he had any other options. Making sure the water wasn’t coming out to hard he gingerly put his hands under the flow.

Hissing as the icy water made contact with the abused flesh of his left hand, he hunched over the basin. Vaguely he could her the couple’s conversation getting more animated, but he was focusing on the sting of his hand and trying to get it clean of blood and bits of asphalt. Leaving his left hand under the spray he cupped his right and splashed it on his face, gasping a little as the cold dripped down his bare chest and over his back, trying to get the bloodstains cleaned off his body just as the machine was removing them from his clothes.

By the time he turned the freezing water off, his hand was throbbing and he was standing in a fairly sizable puddle. Gripping the edge of the basin with his good hand, he leaned over with a small groan. He was just so hungry and the pain of his hand was sapping his energy.

With what felt like a massive effort he pulled back from the sink and dragged himself over to a row of seats near the front of the laundr-o-mat to wait out the rest of the wash cycle. Sitting down seemed to ease his hunger and dizziness some but made him feel even more tired.

Cradling his injured hand in his lap, Cas let his head drop back against the glass. He could feel his lungs heaving as his stomach muscles cramped again, but tried to ignore it just to get a moment’s rest. He must have passed out because the next thing he knew the buzzer on a dryer made him jerk to awareness and surge to his feet.

Titters from around the room made him aware that he must have been asleep for longer than he’d thought. The couple from earlier was gone, but there were more people doing laundry in the room. Machines rumbling, people chatting.

Suddenly self-conscious, the brunette crossed his arms across his bare chest and made his way over to his machine. Lifting the lid he reached in to extract the mess that was the only thing he had to his name.

Dread filled him as he pulled out the ribbons of what used to be his tie that had somehow knotted around the shirt and pants to create a soaking ball of cloth. Little grains of the rough detergent plinked and pittered across the tops of the neighbouring machines as he unraveled the impossible knot.

Little blue stains littered the white and black material, spreading each time the almost nude man rubbed his fingers across them. Frustration bloomed in his chest as he abandoned his efforts and reached back into the machine for the rest of his destroyed clothing.

Shaking out the tarp that used to be a coat the former angel’s heart plummeted. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes as he gathered together the scraps of his dignity along with his clothes and moved over to the chairs where he’d fallen asleep.

The hunger and exhaustion were getting to him and he tossed the damp clothes down on the hard plastic chairs that somehow were a different shade of vomit yellow than the washing machines. How can there be more than one shade of vomit yellow? Honestly. Cas pulled at the frayed tie angrily, reviling in the pain it caused when the damp material rasped over his now puffy wound.

The people around him were no longer watching him from the corners of their eyes, but were staring openly at him. Cas was not paying attention, his anger bubbling in his gut only making his hunger pains that much more grating on his nerves. Jerking the wet clothes on over his already cold body he noticed that the blood stains did not even come out in the wash.

Trudging to the door he violently threw the shreds of his once-blue tie into the open can and slammed the door open. After only a few blocks the wet material began chaffing at his shivering skin making it feel angry and painful.

The sun had long since passed below the edge of the tree and buildings in the distance. The sky was still pink and orange along the horizon but the darkness was closing in and a breeze had picked up, flattening the sopping clothes to Castiel’s body. Numbness was taking over in his mind and his legs seemed to have a mind of their own as he plodded on along the darkening highway.

\----------------------------------------------------******************************------------------------------------------------------

He doesn’t remember breaking the window or crawling into the basement of the small church. Doesn’t remember curling up next to the old boiler or taking his coat off when he finally got too warm. Doesn’t remember falling asleep.

What he does remember is waking from the gnawing hunger in his belly. It seems to claw at him from the inside, trying to eat it’s way up through his throat and back to his spine.

Sitting up blearily, the former angel groans at the stiffness of his neck and the soreness of his joints. Rubbing his eyelids stuck together from sleep, the brunette makes his painful way to a standing position, swaying dizzily. His mouth feels filmy and he tries to swallow the taste away but his throat clicks from how dry it is.

He sees an old sink in the corner of the room and stumbles his way over to it, hoping that the pipes are still in working order. Leaning heavily on the basin he twists the right-hand faucet and brown spurts of liquid come gushing out with a loud squealing noise. It takes a few breathless minutes waiting for the water to run clear. But when it does he purses his cracked lips under the freezing tap and drinks greedily.

He feels the icy water hit his empty stomach like a punch in the gut. The chill spreading through his abdomen somehow making him feel even more hungry than he was before. Teeth aching from the cold, Cas finally leans away from the sink and drags his sleeve languidly over his lips and chin.

“Hey! You can’t be down here.”

Cas whips around at the sound of a gruff voice behind him, falling to one knee from lightheadedness.

“Woah! Hey, you ok, buddy?”

A firm, solid hand on his shoulder is all that keeps Cas from pitching forward as his head swims and his breathing picks up, hyperventilating. The quick drag of air burns into his lungs and his vision tunnels.

“I need food,” he hears a voice say as if from way off in the distance. Vaguely he’s aware that his lips are forming words and that the man leaning over him is pulling him to his feet. He hears a grunt near his ear as the man supports most of the brunette’s weight and a scuffle of feet and he is all but dragged to an old bench pew covered in a tattered leather cushion near the stairs that must lead up to the church.

“Just wait a second, don’t pass out on me.” The man says and then he’s gone, taking the stairs two at a time. Cas sways for a second then leans forward, chest flush to his thighs and breathes heavily with his head tucked between his knees. In the back of his mind he pondered the curiosity of feeling like he was going to throw-up when, clearly, he had nothing in his stomach TO throw up.

“Dude, you’re not doing so hot, are you?” The man had returned and was crouched in front of the former angel.

“Can you sit up for me?” A firm hand was placed on Cas’s shoulder as he slowly tried to lever himself to a sitting position. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his spine as he leaned back heavily on the wooden pew. He’d closed his eyes in concentration but felt the man sit softly beside, hand still warm on his shoulder, an anchor to reality.

“Here. Seems like you haven’t eaten in a while so I brought some white rice. If you can keep it down I’ll make you some broth.” The man nudged a container into Cas’s limp hands and the brunette rolled his head forward to inspect the gift.

“Th—,” Cas coughed through parched throat and tried again but was stopped by a waved hand.

“Just eat. You can thank me later. I can’t have you dying on me, now can I?”

Cas turned his attention back to the lightly steaming rice in his lap. The plastic fork was barely recognizable from the whiteness in his foggy state. It took more effort than he wanted to think about to move his hand from his side to grip the utensil and bring it, trembling, to his lips.

The food was bland and felt like paste in his mouth, but he still groaned in pleasure as it slipped down his sore throat and settled in the emptiness of his stomach. He wanted to inhale the white grains but his weakness forced him to slow, measuring out each mouthful with painful chews and bringing each forkful to his tired lips shakily.

“Good,” the man seated by him was sprawled almost lazily at Cas’s side, watching him with hooded eyes. “You don’t want to eat too fast, it’ll make you sick.” He watched Cas take a few more bites before reaching forward and relieving the food from the brunette’s reluctant hands.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten anyway?” The man closed the container and placed it on his opposite side, far enough for Cas not to be able to reach.

Cas licked his dry lips, feeling the residue left from the slimy rice, and stared at the container as he answered the man by his side. “I don’t know. A while.”

The man tapped his lips thoughtfully, before clapping the former angel on the shoulder. Cas’s stomach lurched slightly at the jostling movement and he locked eyes with the man who had given him help.

“Well,” the hazel-eyed man said with a widening smile. “I’m glad I was here to help.”

Cas felt his still mostly empty stomach sink as the man leaned forward, not liking what he saw just under the surface of his eyes. The medium-built, non-descript man placed the hand not pinching Cas’s shoulder high on the brunette’s thigh and rubbed little circles into the starchy fabric.

“I’m sure I can help you get back on your feet. Seems like you’ve had a spot of bad luck.” Cas breathed a little easier as the hazel-eyed man leaned back slightly and moved the hand from Cas’s thigh but he tensed again as the man gripped his upper arm hard enough to bruise and pulled the former angel to his feet and all but dragged him over to the boiler.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you, but nothing in this world comes for free. I’ll take that thanks, now.”

Cas drew his brow together in confusion and panic clawed at his chest as the man opened a door he hadn’t seen just behind the boiler. A tiny, dirt-floored room greeted them. A stained, bare mattress was wedged against the walls on the opposite side of the space and a thick chain was bolted to the foundation directly above it. The man pushed Cas hard causing him to trip over his own feet and go crashing into the foundation wall and land heavily on the mattress.

Dazed from the force of the blow, the brunette tried, unsuccessfully, to push the other man away as he loomed above him. He felt a cold weight lock around one wrist and the opposite ankle and heard the clink of metal on metal when the man stepped back.

“You really do have a ‘fuck me’ mouth don’t you?” he heard from the door. “Be a good boy now and don’t make a peep or I’ll have to teach you how to be quiet, ok?” The little light that had flooded the cramped space was cut off when the other man walked out, closing the door behind him.

Cas’s breathing picked up in panic and he tried to shake the daze from his head. What just happened? What’s going on? I need to get out of here!

His thoughts swirling in chaos, the former angel clawed at the chains franticly, breaking his nails and leaving a bloody trail over the scarred metal. Chest heaving, the brunette yanked on the chains causing a shower of dried mortar to rain down on his head.

Hope and desperation bloomed in his chest and he continued to pull on the chains causing more dried mortar and some pieces of concrete to plink down around him. Adrenaline coursing through his system his training took over. All those years of war and fighting while stationed in the angel garrison washed over his mind, flooding his system with cold rage.

Lunging to his feet, he threw himself towards the closed door until the chains pulled taut causing him to stumble backwards. Turning, he wrapped both hands around the part of the chain lashed to his wrist and backed up until it was almost straight. Then, with a deep breath, he leaned forward then threw himself back with all his strength.

The bolt must have been placed fairly shallow in the crumbling foundation and it popped free much easier than the brunette anticipated, sending him crashing back through the wooden door. Somehow the door burst right off it’s hinges when he was thrown into it and he lay there, wind knocked out of him for a minute.

“The hell?!” he heard crashing steps from somewhere above and knew that he only had seconds until the hazel-eyed man was going to be on him. Rolling onto his side, Cas rolled the loose chain around his hand and swung towards the approaching threat.

Pain radiated up his arm as his fist collided into the side of his captor’s face with a crunch. Cas doubled over, cradling his broken hand to his chest while the hazel-eyed man all but soared backwards, crashing into the porcelain basin of the sink. The brunette straightened and stalked towards the bleeding man who was righting himself and trying to stem the bleeding gash on his cheek with his shirtsleeve.

Gathering the chain still hooked to his ankle up in his roadburned hand with a hiss, the brunette swung the length of it around, causing the heavy bolt at the end to mash into the other man’s chest. As the bolt made contact with flesh, the sharp end sunk into the man’s chest, ripping out again as he fell backwards. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was Cas’s battle training, but as the man fell backwards he smashed his head into one of the boiler pipes knocking him unconscious.

Cas stumbled forwards and quickly patted the man’s pockets down, finding a ring of keys in his front pants pocket. Thankfully there were only a few keys on the ring and the second one Cas tried opened the locks of bothe the wrist and ankle clamps. Just as he was turning to leave, the former angel spun back around.

Tossing the chain over the boiler pipe that the man had hit his head on, Cas secured the locks around the hazel-eyed man’s wrist and ankle before pocketing the key and making his way over to the wooden stairs. At the top of the stairs Cas’s energy drained out of his limbs and he almost had to sit down but he took a deep breath and pushed forwards through the door into what appeared to be a kitchen.

There were no overhead lights on, but the room was illuminated by the bulb in the open door of a stocked refrigerator. Seeing the food on the shelves, Cas stumbled over to the humming machine and started rifling through it for something he could eat.

Finding a few containers full of the same white rice that his captor had brought to him in the boiler room and half a roasted chicken, the brunette bundled up the supplies in a plastic bag that was sitting on the counter. There were a few bottles of rubbing alcohol and a box of lubricant already in the bag but he didn’t bother emptying it, figuring he might be able to use them for something.

Just as he was exiting the chilly kitchen he noticed an old, corded phone tacked to the wall and his feet stopped of their own volition. He stared at the phone, contemplating his options, weighing his luck. Just like with his feet, his hands seemed to have a mind of their own and before he knew it he’d picked up the receiver and dialed.

He held the phone away from his face as he heard it ring out. Three. Four rings. Then a click.

“Hello?”

The gruff male voice floating disembodied through the receiver echoed weirdly in the empty room.

“Hello?! Who is this?”

“D-dean,” tears welled up, unbidden in the former angel’s eyes. “Dean,” he sobbed out.

“Cas?! Where the hell are you, man?! I’ve been praying to you, didn’t you hear me?!”

The brunette leaned heavily against the wall next to the phone base and tears fell down on top of the spilled food he’d dropped when Dean’s voice first floated through the phone. He sobbed out the blonde’s name again and covered his mouth with his broken hand trying to stop the babbling.

“Woah, woah! Slow down! What’s going on? Cas?! Come on man, you gotta talk to me. Where are you?”

The former angel drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m ok, Dean. It’s ok. I’ll be fine. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not an angel anymore. I can’t help you. I’m so sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“What do you mean ‘you’re not an angel anymore’? Cas. Just. Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you, ok? I need you, man. Sammy’s hurt real bad and...I just need you here.”

“I can’t heal your brother, Dean.” Cas’s heart seemed to simultaneously sink and lodge in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Of course Dean would want him to help with Sam. But that just wasn’t a possibility anymore. His grace was gone, cut out. He was useless to the eldest Winchester.

“Damnit, Cas! I don’t want you to heal him. I just want you here! Do you know where you are? I’ll come get you or send a friend to pick you up.”

Cas paused. Drew in a long breath.

“...unless you don’t want to come.”

Tears welled up in Cas’s eyes. “No! No, Dean. I want to be there with you...if you want me to come....”

“Of course, man! You’re fami—“

“It’s my fault.” he cut off the hunter.

“What?”

“The angels. The angels falling from heaven. It’s my fault. You were right about Metatron. He tricked me. It was a spell and I helped him.”

“Hey, woah! It’s ok. Cas! Stop! It’s ok, man. It doesn’t matter. We’ll fix it. Come home and we’ll fix it, just like we always do.”

Cas leaned forward, picking up a container of rice that was mostly intact. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Ok. Give me an hour and I’ll find where I am and call you back. And...thank you.”

“I’ll look for your call in an hour.”

Cas hung up the receiver and slid down the wall. He’d be ok. Dean would come get him and he’d know what to do or he’d find someone who did. That’s how it always was. With that thought curling his lips into a smile the former angel looked down at the food in front of him and started the slow process of healing his body. Being human was going to be interesting.


End file.
